Mask
by Quillest
Summary: The mask he wears took years to create. Oneshot, Byakuya-centric.


**Note**: First Bleach fic. Someone asked in one of the forums who we thought the saddest character in Bleach was. My answer was Byakuya. That guy's just a whole huge ball of _angst_. I hope I did him justice and that he IC. Enjoy, and review if you have any contructive criticism or if you enjoyed the story! Quote at the beginning is taken from the beginning of Bleach volume 7. Kubo owns all!

**Spoilers: **Turn Back the Pendulum arc and the beginning up until the end of the SS arc

**Pairings**: Byakuya/Hisana, very slight one-sided Byakuya/Yoruichi

~*~

"_We should not shed tears_

_That is a surrender of the body to the heart_

_It is only proof_

_That we are beings that do not know_

_What to do with our hearts"_

~*~

Where had they gone? Why had they left? Were they coming back? Why would they just leave him? Didn't they want him?

Didn't they love him?

"Byakuya," Grandfather said, kneeling beside him and placing a large hand on his tiny shoulder. "I know it hurts, but we must be strong. One day you will be the Head of the Kuchiki clan, and they must know that you are able to lead them."

He didn't _want _to lead anyone. He just wanted his mother and father.

Grandfather's eyes were sad, and he squeezed his shoulder slightly in reassurance. "I know, child, but the pain will pass. Wipe your tears now. Be strong. I am here with you."

Byakuya did as he was told.

~*~

Shihōin Yoruichi was the most annoying, arrogant, _vacuous _woman Byakuya had ever met in his entire life! She was the Head of the noble Shihōin family, a taichō of the Gotei 13, and the Sōshireikan of the Onmitsukidō, and yet she acted like a flighty _girl_.

Had she no sense of decency, no pride in her titles? She should be an example to the people of Seireitei, commanding her men and ruling over her clan. She should be graceful, ladylike, noble, responsible. The safety of the land rested partly in her hands, and yet she spent her afternoons pestering him and _stealing his hair-ties_!

Nagging him, mocking him, leading him in chases that eventually got him thoroughly lost, calling him that horrid name—the demon cat was the bane of his existence. He hated her more than he hated any other person in the world.

Mocking _him_, Kuchiki Byakuya! Had the cat no brain? Did she not understand the power that he would one day have? She was bigger, faster, stronger—but only for the time being. Soon he would surpass her, and then she would be sorry.

Grandfather said to listen to her and learn from her.

"_Shihōin-dono can teach you much, Byakuya."_

Much as he hated to admit it, Grandfather was right. Besides him, the were-cat had taught him more than any other person. So he would bide his time, keeping his enemy in his focus and learning her techniques.

One day, his hard work and waiting would pay off. On that day, he would steal something of hers and lead _her_ on a chase. He would show her that he was a man, not a boy. He was Kuchiki Byakuya, not Byakuya-bo. Then she would look at him as an equal and stop treating him like a child. She would take him seriously.

One day his grandfather came to him during his exercises. He seemed subdued. "Byakuya," he said, "I fear I have some bad news for you."

Byakuya immediately stilled his movements, bokken lowering until it was at his side. "Yes, Grandfather?"

"It would appear that Yoruichi-dono has left the Soul Society."

A sick feeling shot through Byakuya, similar to what he thought a sword through the stomach might feel like.

_She left?_

"There is still some speculation, but we believe that she has left with the traitor Urahara Kisuke."

Byakuya was quiet, and his grandfather looked down at him, concern and sympathy in his face.

"Are you well, Byakuya?" he asked softly.

Byakuya snorted softly, features arranged in an expression of disinterest. He turned around to resume his exercises. "Thank you, Grandfather, but why wouldn't I be? My tormentor has finally left, and I will have some peace."

Time passed before he heard his grandfather's footsteps leaving.

Byakuya hated that demon cat more than any other person in the world. She had teased him, mocked him, and rubbed his face in his inexperience and weakness. Now she had robbed him of his revenge. Yes, he loathed her with all his being.

It was foolish, then, that he should cry.

~*~

The time had finally come for the world to say goodbye to Kuchiki Ginrei.

More than anything, Byakuya wished to release to the world the gnawing, black pain the roiled inside of him. He wished to see the faces of the Elders and lower clans as he screamed at the terrible unfairness of it. He wished to voice how achingly _alone_ he was.

Instead he stood tall and silent, his face as tranquil as undisturbed water.

He remembered what Grandfather had said at his parents' funeral so long ago. He was the Kuchiki Head, now. He must show them that he could suffer through anything with strength and calm. They needed a leader that could protect and care for them, one who could be an example to the rest of the nobility and Seireitei.

So he remained composed and silent.

Only when he was alone in his room, face covered with a pillow to muffle the sounds, did he weep for the man that had raised him.

~*~

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep from staring at her, his eyes always moving back to her after he had forced himself to look way. He could tell it was causing her to be flustered, but she could not bring herself to look at him.

Byakuya had let the hood of his cloak fall back some time ago, no longer paranoid that someone might recognize him. The other patrons ignored him for the most part, anyway, only noting and laughing at his besotted expression.

The woman finally approached his table, eyes lowered and fidgeting slightly. "Is there something I may do for you, sir?" she asked quietly. Try as he might, he could not get her to look up at him.

"I would have your name," he said softly. He tried to make himself smaller, unimposing, so she would not act like some frightened bird.

She blushed slightly, still not meeting his eyes. "Hisana."

"Hisana," he breathed, then felt himself flush at how silly he was acting. The name stirred something in his chest and made him stomach flutter in a way that was neither pleasant nor painful. "It is a beautiful name, just like its owner."

She seemed to tense at his compliment, blush deepening. A long, awkward moment of silence passed, and Byakuya felt the unusual urge to fidget. Feeling the slight sting of humiliation, he opened his mouth to start an apology. He was struck dumb once more when she finally looked up.

Her eyes were a strange mixture of purple and blue, large and gentle and kind. There was a weariness to them, as he had seen in many faces while in Rukongai, as well as a shame that puzzled him.

"Um. I. . ." she fell silent again.

"Yes?" he encouraged.

She closed her eyes briefly, and there was resolve when she opened them again. "I am not cheap, sir."

Byakuya blinked, surprised by the strange comment. His brow furrowed. "What?"

"My fee is non-negotiable, and I'm not cheap." She blushed again, and this time he distinctly felt that it was from shame. He did not understand why, though he didn't want to admit it to her. Another moment of awkward silence followed.

When she turned to leave, he abandoned his pride in desperation. "Wait, I don't—I'm not sure I—"

"I don't normally do this," she interrupted, flustered once more. "I don't know the proper procedure for," she gestured wildly with one hand at the two of them, "this. I'll do. . . I'll do whatever you want, though."

At first, he still felt painfully lost. Then he noticed some of the other patrons leering at them even as Hisana fidgeted and darted glances at anything and everything that wasn't him.

"Oh," he said, eyes growing wide. He felt numb with shock, even felt a flash of disgust at the implication of him wanting to pay for her services. With this understanding, he saw her differently.

Her intense discomfort, the loathing he saw there, the humiliation she felt for needing to lower herself to this—it pained him. More than that—he felt as if someone was tearing out his heart.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and she was forced to live in filth through no fault of her own. It was wrong, and he wanted so desperately to make it right, to give her the life that she deserved.

He grabbed her hand, and she looked up at him, startled and eyes flashing momentarily with fright.

He didn't know what he had planned to say to her, didn't know what he had thought he might do to help her, but taking her hand _meant _something. It was right, and the words came to him as easily as if they had always been there.

"Please. Marry me."

She had not believed him at first. No one had. When he had finally convinced her to come with him, he had to set her aside for a short while to battle against the Elders and the rest of the clan.

It was against family law, it was unseemly. If he _must _make forays into Rukongai, could he not just play in the filth and be done with it? Did he really need to bring it home with him? So many excuses.

It was the hardest battle he had ever fought, but he remained immovable. In the end, inevitably, he was the victor. Some of the clan remained bitter, though he did not concern himself with them.

Hisana became his wife, and he loved her so deeply that sometimes it frightened him. What lengths might he go to protect her and give her what she wanted? He knew without a doubt that even his life was nothing when it was for her. He loved her more than he thought one could love _anything_.

It nearly tore him apart when he realized that she did not feel the same.

She respected him, cared for him dearly, even loved him in the way a friend would. She regretted that she could not return his love, though in the beginning she tried. He had saved her from poverty and shame, taken her into a home that she had heard of only in fairytales, and cared for her as if she was the greatest treasure the world had ever seen. If there was anyone that deserved her love, it was him.

Byakuya saw her guilt and her pain, saw her confusion when she couldn't force herself to reciprocate his feelings, saw that he was hurting her with his own grief every time she realized that he _knew_ she could never love him in that way. He was actually hurting her by loving her.

So he retreated. His feelings for her were as deep and intense as they had always been, but he softened them so they were not quite so overwhelming to her. He hid the pain, buried it so deeply within himself that sometimes even he forgot about it. He gave up trying to somehow make himself worthy of her love. He gave up looking and asking for more. He was content to just have her at his side.

For five years, they were together. He helped her in any way he could, even aiding in her search for her lost sister. She stayed beside him.

Then she fell ill on one of her trips to Rukongai. It grew worse, though she continued to search despite the obvious stress and pain it was to her body. Finally, she became too sick to leave her bed. Byakuya stayed at her side, feeling helpless and utterly useless as he watched his wife die in front of him.

On her last day, he knelt beside her, comforting her and holding her hand. She apologized that she had never been able to love him as he had loved her, then thanked him for the time she had been able to spend with him, claiming it to be like a dream. She also asked him to continue looking for her sister, as she no longer could.

He promised. Anything, everything for her.

Then she left him.

He did not know where he wandered after that. It was far away from the Kuchiki manor, far away from Seireitei and any person. A forest somewhere, a place with rain.

He wept and raged until his voice was hoarse and his throat burned. At times he would look down, and he would see cuts and scrapes on his hands and knuckles, covered in blood. His clothing was muddied, wet, and ripped in places. He hoped he had not brought the kenseikan or the _ginpaku kazahana no uzuginu_, because he was not wearing them and could no longer remember where he had placed them.

He did not know how long he drifted in his grief or what he did in that time away. Eventually, he returned home, dirtied, bloody, and on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

He was bathed, fed, and sent to bed as quickly and as gently as possible. The servants of the household never mentioned the incident, though they all noted the change in their master when he rose the next day, and the day after, and so on until the his manner was no longer thought of as a result of grief. It was just who he was.

Kuchiki Byakuya became a man that was cold, emotionless, and disinterested in those around him. It was not long before he was avoided, left for the most part completely alone.

He seemed to prefer it that way.

~*~

Byakuya had fought once more against the family laws in order to fulfill his promise to Hisana. He won, but only just. He feared turning the entire clan against him and so made sure he never could.

_This is the last time. _He vowed, to himself and to his parents. _This is the last time that I break the law._

Seeing Rukia caused conflicting emotions to surface that he had thought well under control. She was nearly identical to Hisana in appearance, and at first her personality was exactly like her gentle and soft-spoken sister. He soon realized that she was much more out-spoken and fiery than her sister had been. Those differences helped him keep himself in control. They also served to reduce the number of times his heart wrenched in his chest when the light hit her just right, or she made an expression like her sister's.

He tried to maintain his distance, and Rukia was appropriately reverent and intimidated by him, too much so that she tried very infrequently to forge a bond between them that perhaps normal sisters and brothers shared.

She did try, though, and he found himself growing. . .attached to her. She was a constant, something he had grown used to, someone he had seemingly—without his knowledge or consent—adopted as a sister in more than just the legal sense.

He had to constantly protect her from the rest of the clan in the beginning. They made no effort to conceal their disgust, and there were times that Rukia would return home injured. She would tell him that she didn't remember the faces of her attackers, unable to meet his eyes as she lied to his face. This angered him. Greatly, in fact.

The clan soon learned not to trifle with him, and Rukia did not have to lie to him any longer.

He was the Head of the Kuchiki clan, and he had his pride to protect.

Rukia joined the Thirteenth Division, unseated as he had wished. It was much to his surprise, then, that she was sent—alone—to the Living World. Ukitake-taichō had been quick to reassure him that it was a very low-risk mission. Byakuya had asked why he felt as if he needed to explain himself. Ukitake had just looked inexplicably amused and ended up excusing himself.

Rukia had been gone far too long, though. She had not reported to Ukitake, something which greatly bothered her taichō. Byakuya found himself growing agitated the longer her absence went unexplained.

Then things _were_ explained, and he was given orders.

He felt disappointment in her, and knew that justice must be served quickly if she was to learn. He and his newly-appointed fukutaichō—a loud, overly-confident commoner that he nonetheless saw some promise in—departed for the Living World immediately.

It was only a matter of time and a small amount of effort exerted before Rukia was apprehended. She seemed to care for the orange-haired human, despite her efforts to conceal it from her brother.

Byakuya found himself intensely disliking the boy. He was arrogant, foolish, and hot-headed. His actions, whether he knew it or not, must have influenced Rukia in some way to break the law and give him her power.

He dealt harshly with the impudent child.

They returned to the Soul Society, and Byakuya was confidant that justice would be carried out quickly. Then they could return to their normal lives.

He stared at Hisana's picture a few days later, trying to calm the conflict within himself. She held no answers for him and just gazed back at him, smiling softly. He had made a promise to her. He had fulfilled it. He had made a promise on the grave of his parents. He must not break the law. The law was absolute. If he did not obey it, how could he expect the commoners to? He must be an example, both to the people and to his clan. He must be a leader, one who could suffer through anything with calm and strength.

Rukia must die, and he could do nothing but watch.

Byakuya allowed himself a moment more before the shrine, closing his eyes. He brushed aside the protests his heart made and the ache that accompanied them.

When he turned away from the shrine, his mask was in place. It was a thing of beauty, flawless and cold and comfortable to him now after so many years of wearing it. It did not betray emotions that he did not have, nor did it show doubt about a ruling that must be right. It could not really be called a mask anymore because it was just as much a part of who he was as Senbonzakura.

Emotions were a handicap, and he must be strong. He must be a leader, an example, calm and unhesitating in his actions.

He did not doubt. He did not regret. He did not hurt.


End file.
